


When It Rains (It Pours)

by rosegoldroman



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Logangst, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-08 12:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18623512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosegoldroman/pseuds/rosegoldroman
Summary: Logan’s facade is slipping — and all it takes is an argument with Roman to make it break entirely.





	When It Rains (It Pours)

**Author's Note:**

> im trying to transfer all the oneshots ive written the last few months to here so be ready for a DELUGE of oneshots dhfkHDF

They were arguing again.

Really, Logan wasn’t even sure what had started it this time. An offhand remark, a subtle jab about schedules; anything and everything seemed able to get them at each other’s throats. One tiny problem and they were off, yelling and snapping and  _hating_  until they couldn’t even remember what they’d been fighting about in the first place.

Roman was yelling. He did that a lot these days, even more than usual; and in place of his typical overdramatic tone, fury rolled darkly beneath his voice. Logan felt fury blaze to life in his chest to match Roman’s anger and he pushed it away, away, away, gritting his teeth as he schooled his expression.

“As I’ve said countless times, this is getting us nowhere. Thomas has far too many obligations to spend any longer on recreational projects. You’re being ridiculous, Roman.”

 _“‘Ridiculous?’”_  Roman repeated, his eyes flaring with anger. “Wow, talk about throwing stones in glass houses!”

“I would never do that, that’s incredibly dangerous,” Logan said, shaking his head. Roman let out a loud, furious scoff, dragging a hand through his hair.

“I  _know_  Thomas has work to do, Logan! With how often you remind me, I doubt I could ever forget! But he cannot just give up on other pursuits because of it!” Logan felt a million retorts jump up his throat and die on his tongue as Roman growled. “I can’t work like that!”

“That is not my problem,” Logan said, and cleared his throat to erase the hint of frustration leaking into his voice, “and it should not be Thomas’, either. I will reiterate: we have too much to do to keep taking so many breaks.”

 _“It is your problem!”_  Roman yelled, loud, and Logan winced despite himself, his chest tightening. He readjusted his tie and cleared his throat, shoving away the feeling before it could take hold.  _“Without me, there’s no work to get done in the first place!_  Why don’t you stop being such an idiot and realize that not everybody can be a  _robot_  like you?”

Logan’s chest seized. Why wouldn’t his voice come? Why weren’t his lungs functioning? He cleared his throat. “I-I am not —” He cut himself off and shook his head. “While you are… necessary… for Thomas’ productivity, your incessant need to take on more than we are capable of handling, even ‘recreational projects’ for ‘self-care,’ is only hindering Thomas. You’re hurting him —”

_“Shut up!”_

Roman had slammed his fist against the wall and the noise echoed around Logan’s mind far longer than it should have. He took a step back despite himself, hot fear trickling through his lungs.

 _“Stop acting like I’m not important!”_  Roman continued, his voice loud and pitchy and practically dripping with fury.  _“Stop pretending I’m not needed!_  I only want him to be happy! What do you want,  _Logic_ , beyond turning him into a heartless robot like you?”

Why wouldn’t his voice work? It didn’t make sense — it didn’t make  _logical_ sense. Dust was beginning to fill his lungs and creep up his throat —  _push it away, push it away._

“Not everything is about work! There’s more to life than that!” Roman’s face was flushed an angry scarlet to match his sash, and frustrated rage darted through his bright fire’s-ember eyes. “I’m sorry I cannot match up to your  _infinitesimally_ high standards — oh, wait, that’s  _wrong, isn’t it?_  You would know, _wouldn’t you?”_

His voice was cruel, mocking; the words seemed to tumble from his mouth like an uncontrollable waterfall and Logan was drowning in their echo, his mind filling with words and swirling, unbidden, a whirlpool of illogical feelings.  _Push it away_ — he grit his teeth and curled his hands into fists, willing his face to stay blank,  _stay blank, push it away_ —

“You talk about me hurting Thomas? Ha! Keep saying that while you take away his self-care! Keep saying that while you  _push away_  the rest of his personality, and for what? To prove you’re above emotions? To prove you don’t love us?” Roman let out a loud bark of humorless laughter. “We got that message loud and clear!”

Logan’s protests got caught in his throat and tried to choke him. He pushed them down —  _push it all down_ , he reminded himself — and cleared his throat. “I am above emotions,” he said, as evenly as he could, and he ignored the way Roman’s words echoed around his head.  _You don’t love us you don’t love us you don’t love us._

“Well guess what? The rest of us aren’t!” Roman growled. “Stop pushing us aside and stop pushing _Thomas_  down a path that will only make him unhappy! Be as cold and robotic and  _empty_  as you want, I don’t  _care,_  but stop —”

He cut off. Logan opened his mouth to retort but all that escaped was a strange, choked sound that seemed to wrap around his lungs and squeeze tight. The room felt completely, utterly silent in the absence of Roman’s yelling, and Logan felt cold inside and out but burning hot at the same time.  _You don’t love us._

“‘Above emotions,’ huh?” Roman said with a sneer. Logan’s eyebrows furrowed as warmth slipped down his cheeks, and his fingers came away wet when he touched them to his face.

“Wh-what is this?” Why was his voice cracking? Why did his chest hurt so badly?  _You don’t love us_ , his mind repeated over and over, a broken record to match the broken glass in his lungs. “Is it… is it raining?”

But that didn’t make sense, it wouldn’t rain indoors. Roman was shaking his head, his expression growing cold as his anger cooled. “You’re crying,” he said, as if it made the most sense in the world, even though it didn’t make sense, not at all.

“But —” His hands were shaking, his chest was aching; why wouldn’t his brain  _shut up?_  He couldn’t force words past the lump in his throat.  _Push it away,_ his mind yelled, but the thought was silenced by a wave of  _emotions._

He tried to readjust his tie but ended up just clutching at it, his fingers curling around the fabric and holding it like a lifeline. He took a step back, hunching in on himself as his vision blurred and swirled.  _Robot,_  his mind yelled.  _Robot, robot, robot._

“Roman, I —” Another sob wrenched its way out of his throat and he choked. Why couldn’t he stop? Why couldn’t he breathe?

“What’s wrong?” Roman asked, eyes narrowed. “I thought you were above emotions.”

And he sank out.

And Logan was alone.

Silence pounded against his ears — or maybe that was his heart, pounding resolutely through the broken-glass sobs and deafening him. His hands tightened into fists around the fabric of his shirt as the tears kept flooding, flooding, _flooding_ , they wouldn’t stop and he couldn’t push them away no matter how hard he tried, and he couldn’t  _breathe._

This was illogical. Roman’s words shouldn’t affect him this badly. He needed to  _stop._  He curled into himself, bunching the fabric tightly between his fingers to keep his hands from shaking and biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. He wasn’t emotional.  _He was never emotional._

“I am a robot,” he whispered to himself, his voice hoarse and trembling and broken. He had to convince himself of that fact.  _He was never emotional._

_He’d been so proud when he beat Roman in that rap battle, and so excited to show off his poetry skills, especially against one as poetically gifted as Roman. His chest still swelled when he thought of it._

“I am a robot,” he whispered again.  _He was never emotional._

_Trapped in Anxiety’s room and trapped in his own mind, he’d never been so scared. Thorny vines had wrapped around his lungs and squeezed tight. But he’d breathe through it, he had to — to show Anxiety how needed he was, how much he cared about him, and to save his fellow sides._

“I am a robot,” he tried again, and grit his teeth as  _falsehood_  rang out through his mind.

_Creation wasn’t his forte, that was more Roman’s thing, but still, he sat and worked away at it until he felt completely satisfied with his work. Patton deserved no less. Guilt ate away at his stomach as he shifted the hoodie to just the right shade of gray._

_“I am a robot.”_  He squeezed his eyes shut, tighter and tighter until colors exploded in front of his vision.  _ **He. Was. Never. Emotional.**_

_Astronomy courses? It was more than he could have ever hoped for. Excitement and anticipation exploded in his chest and possibilities raced to the forefront of his mind. The cosmos fascinated him! He couldn’t wait to learn all about them._

“I am —” He choked. The tears weren’t slowing and that awful heat in his chest hadn’t left, and his brain wouldn’t stop, refused to stop. He shoved his glasses up his forehead and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes.

He was proud and excited and guilty and curious. He was fond and frustrated and angry and sad. He was wonder; he was intelligence. He was Logan.

_He was not a robot._

_And he’d never hurt worse._


End file.
